broken horses

Admittedly I have been having a difficult go of life lately. I guess life is too broad a word, by life I mean my work life. Currently I am a teller, moonlighting as a waitress, squeezing in some house-cleaning. Ah, but there is nothing like hauling trash, scuffing knees swiping a dishrag across a dirty floor, waiting tables and being called an ignorant bitch by a disgruntled customer not getting her way to really make a person evaluate if it's all worth it.
Besides paying back my college education tab which is getting so engorged with interest you might think I attended Yale, instead of one of the smaller schools in Michigan, I also have a need to get to the Big Apple and turns out even three jobs barely accomplishes that.
My spirit is starting to shrivel like a sunburned grape in Napa Valley. Hence why when aforementioned disgruntled shrew started screaming at me at work today in a fit of unholy rage over a policy that I myself could not change, I lost it.
I walked to the bathroom and cried. Tried to pull myself together but instead cried some more. Then sat in my car for an hour while my mom told me to shake it off and still the tears would not be abated.
I came home with a pounding headache, peeled off my work clothes and crawled into bed pulling the covers over my head to get lost in sleep.
Later on a walk at dusk accompanied by my roommate, I told her about this horse I had seen on a recent trip to Chicago. My friend and I had been walking by the Water Tower on the Magnificent Mile when I saw the horse carriages lined up.
Being an avid horse lover, I felt the pull to be near the stunning creatures. With my camera around my neck I instantly began to get close to snap pictures. It wasn't until I walked away and really studied the pictures that I saw how terribly sad the horses eyes were. It actually made me want to run back, unhook her and say run. Just run.
And then, though the story didn't start out with this correlation in mind, I got it. I am the horse with almost no spirit or delight left behind my eyes to tell me to keep doing what I know I have to do. I don't see the sun peaking on the horizon. All I see is black.
I don't know how to remedy this situation... yet, but I do know my spirit has taken an ugly turn for the worse and I can't push myself much further when I already feel so broken.
Like those beautiful horses, I ache for something more, something beautiful and something free. And I am not sure how much longer I can pretend it's okay being shackled to the pavement when I need to feel the grass beneath my feet.